


drunk in love

by intertwiningwords



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: AU, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, First Meeting, Getting Together, Modern AU, meet ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwiningwords/pseuds/intertwiningwords
Summary: Allison is working a party in which a very drunk, very pretty girl with red hair approaches her.





	drunk in love

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this: I’m a waiter at this wedding and you’re a drunk guest who will not stop hitting on me please I’m trying to work no I can’t dance with you omg let me find you some water - from http://nerds-are-cool.tumblr.com/post/133544218971/if-youre-struggling-for-au-ideas-take

Allison moved out of her house the minute she could, which meant working a  _ lot _ to successfully pay her rent. During the day, she worked bagging at a grocery store, and at nights she was a waitress in a catering hall, as well as picking up odd jobs from her neighbors, like fixing their sinks, watering their plants, or cat-sitting. So far, she’s managed to scrape by.

Saturday nights are always the busiest at the catering hall, usually for a sweet sixteen or something, but tonight, there’s a wedding with a huge amount of guests, which is likely why the happy couple opted for a cheaper hall to accommodate their huge-ass families.

Allison serves champagne and plates of tiny portions, her feet aching from the heels she’s forced to wear as she walks back and forth and back and forth.

As she’s carrying an armful of dirty plates back to the kitchen, someone bumps into her from behind, making her stumble and nearly sends a half-eaten piece of steak to the floor, but she regains her balance at the last second.

“I’m so sorry!” a high-pitched voice slurs and Allison turns to see a redheaded woman in a tight pink dress, a glass of wine in her hand with lipstick smudged on the rim.

“It’s alright,” she assures her.

“I love your eyeshadow!” the girl cries before Allison can turn to walk away.

“Thank you,” Allison gives her a quick smile and starts making her way to the kitchen, her cheeks a little pink, surely do to the heat of all the moving bodies and running ovens.

But when she exits the kitchen, the girl is out there waiting for her, her face lighting up in a smile as she stumbles forward, sloshing red wine down the front of her dress.

“Oh!” Allison says, managing to catch her and the wine glass before she goes down face-first. “Here, come with me. Let’s get you cleaned up,” she offers, taking her hand.

The girl doesn’t protest, following her with a dopey grin on her face.

“I’m Claire,” the girl declares as they get into the bathroom, the lights much brighter than the ones in the hall, and Allison blinks a few times to adjust.

“Allison,” she says.

“Allison,” Claire repeats, letting the name roll off her tongue like some line of prose, and then she giggles. “I like that name.”

Allison shakes her head with an almost fondness and then turns to get a few paper towels from the dispenser, sticking them beneath the faucet and dampening them.

Claire leans against the counter. “You know my cousin doesn’t even like the dude she just married? They’ve been together since high school and she refuses to leave him. She’s come to my apartment in tears like twenty times cause he’s cheated on her.”

Allison hands her the paper towels. “That’s awful,” she says. “I don’t think I could give someone a second chance after that.”

“And yet she’s given him about fifty chances,” Claire rolls her eyes, rubbing harshly at the material.

“Here, let me,” Allison offers, trying to be gentle as she rubs at the stubborn stains. There are a few stain-sticks in the basket on the counter, so once the deep red mark has faded, she tries one of those.

She sighs. “I think that’s the best it’s gonna get,” she says. “But at least it’ll be dark in there.”

“Thank you,” Claire says, turning to look at herself in the mirror. “Oh, I am so drunk right now,” she whispers, almost to herself, before leaning her head on the counter with a groan.

Allison has dealt with drunk people many times before, including those of the underage category, but she’s never gotten so personally involved before.

“How about you come to the kitchen with me, and I get you some water?” Allison suggests.

Claire lifts her head and nods lazily.

Allison has to heave her to an upright position, walking back down the hall. She sits Claire down at an extra chair left in the corner and goes to fill up a glass of water for her.

“Here, drink this. I have to go bring some plates out, but after, I’ll sneak you some bread, okay?”

Claire nods, taking the cup and sipping it gratefully.

When Allison returns, Claire is still sat where she left her, cupping her water to her chest in both hands, her head hung low.

“You alright?” Allison asks, kneeling beside her.

Claire sniffles and shakes her head. “I always do this,” she says.

“Do what?”

“Get too drunk and wind up being taken care of! It’s like, I’ve been taken care of my whole fucking life and I’m twenty-two and I still have to ask my dad for money and how to do my laundry and how to fucking cook pasta! Like, I feel so fucking useless, you know?”

Allison literally has no idea what to say, so instead, she takes the glass of water from Claire’s shaking hands and sets it aside. “Hey, it’s okay,” she says, and Claire leans forward to cry against Allison’s chest, her hair smelling like coconut.

Awkwardly rubbing her back, Allison attempts to calm her down.

When Claire looks up, there is mascara smudged beneath her big, watery eyes, and Allison takes her thumb to brush it away.

“You’re pretty,” Claire slurs, and her tears are seemingly forgotten as her voice drops to a sultry, flirty tone.

Allison flushes, shaking her head. “And  _ you’re _ drunk,” she reminds.

“Allison!” the voice of one of her coworker's calls.

Shit. “Why don’t you go back out there and dance, huh? I’ll walk you out there.”

Claire nods and allows herself to be manhandled into a standing position. Allison walks her out into the dining hall and leaves her standing by the bar as she collects empty glasses and used plates, her face still burning from Claire’s comment.

The wedding dwindles to an end, guests leave without their ugly little party favors and wrap up their steaks and cake, kissing the brides cheeks and saying a final congratulations.

Allison cleans up the messes, smiles at guests, and silently curses the people who spilled their drinks all over the dance floor and the person who, for some reason, put their slice of cake underneath the table? God, drunk people were really something else.

Speaking of, Claire was shuffled out of the building by who Allison assumed was her father, without the chance to say goodbye.

When she returns to the kitchen, there’s a piece of paper folded on the chair she had left Claire to sit in, and her heart flutters, reaching for it and unfolding it delicately, as though it were a napkin in a fancy restaurant.

In lopsided cursive, it reads: “call me sometime? love, Claire,” accompanied by her phone number.

Allison is giddy the whole bus ride home, sending a text to the number to drink lots of water to avoid being hungover.

She wakes up to a response from Claire that reads, “my head feels like it’s going to explode. no amount of advil will save me. SOS.”

Allison giggles, and their back and forth chat leads to a brunch date for the next weekend.

Maybe she should take care of pretty, drunk patrons more often.

 

***

 

Allison gets Brian from work to cover for her so that she can meet Claire at a cute little brunch place at noon. She wakes up early, trying on several different outfits before she settles on a grey sweater and black skinny jeans because it’s the only outfit she doesn’t despise the way she looks in.

The struggle of hair and makeup ensued, as she usually didn’t even bother, or didn’t care if she looked like a raccoon, but today, she did.

Sure, Claire had called her pretty that night, but she had also been too drunk to have proper reasoning.

She shows up to the restaurant at 11:59 on the dot, and immediately, the doubt sets in. Surely, this was some sick joke. There’s no way a girl like Claire could fall for a girl like Allison. If they had met in high school, Claire would have been the head cheerleader who called Allison a freak. There was no way they were going to get along.

Just as she’s ready to stand up and run home, the bell on the door tinkles and in walks Claire, her red hair standing out amongst the other patrons. She’s wearing a dress with a Peter Pan collar, and Allison immediately begins to fiddle with the hem of her sweater, insecure.

Their eyes meet, and Claire breaks into a smile. “Allison!” she exclaims, opening her eyes to pull her in for a hug.

Allison leans into it awkwardly, patting Claire’s back. “Hi,” she says, but she can’t help the smile that has twisted on her lips. _ Don’t get your hopes up, _ the voice in her head tells her, but she pushes it away, mentally flipping it off.

“It’s good to see you. And, well, sober. In the morning I was almost convinced I hallucinated you until I saw your text,” she admitted with a small, shy laugh.

Allison laughed too.

They found a table in the corner and quickly fell into the usual first twenty questions: what’s your middle name, where did you go to high school, what kind of music do you like?

“I promise I don’t usually drink that much,” Claire mentions. “It was just one of those nights, you know?”

Allison nods, although she doesn’t really know. Sure, she’s drank before, but vodka burnt her throat and beer tasted like shit. She didn’t really see the appeal, drowning her sorrows in music and the occasional joint, if the week’s been bad enough.

Their food (avocado toast for Claire and chocolate chip pancakes for Allison—what a difference) arrives, but the conversation doesn’t dwindle.

“So, cats or dogs?” Claire asks, before taking a bite of her toast.

“Cats,” Allison replies immediately. “They’re misunderstood, and they don’t bark.”

“I had a dog when I was little, but all she did was yap and eat my shoes,” Claire shrugs. “I’ve never had a cat, but I think I’d prefer it.”

When the bill came, Claire insisted, and Allison felt her cheeks heat up.

“I can pay,” she says, but it sounds more defensive than she intends.

“Oh, I didn’t mean—I know you can pay, I just wanted to be polite,” she replies, flushing as well.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay. How about we just go halfsies then? You pay for yours, I pay for mine. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They shake hands across the table as if they’re leaving an important business meeting, then laugh.

“This was a lot of fun,” Claire tells her. “Would you want to do this again sometime?”

Allison smiles softly and nods. “I’d like that.”

They hug again, this time Allison fully returns it, a grin spread across her face. 

 

***

 

Flash forward a year, and Claire is curled up on the couch in their apartment, their cat curled by her feet and a glass of rosé in her hand.

Allison sits beside her, nursing her own glass between her palms, eyes fixed on the screen; Claire has introduced her to  _ The Good Place _ , and they’ve been bingeing it ever since.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Claire asks.

Allison seems taken aback by the question, but hums in thought for a moment. “Maybe,” she says. “Why?”

Claire shrugs. “It’s just funny how we met, you know? Like, if I hadn’t RSVP’d to that wedding, would we have still met?”

“I’d like to think so,” Allison says, leaning closer to rest her head on Claire’s shoulder.

“Maybe one day, we’ll get married in the same building we met.”

“Ugh, I would  _ never _ get married there. The food sucked and the dancefloors were so tiny, I got bumped into with plates of hot food so often.”

Claire laughs. “I love how instead of arguing that we won’t get married, you argue where it’ll be.”

Allison blushes. “Well, I hope I get to marry you someday, and if I’m gonna do it, I might as well do it right, right?”

They exchange small smiles before they kiss, soft and sweet.

The conversation leaves a thought in Allison’s mind though; it really is funny how they met under such silly, strange circumstances.

As she watches Claire laugh at the antics of Eleanor on the TV, sip her wine, and whine for the cat to come sit on her lap, she realizes she wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please consider leaving a kudos or comment: feedback is so nice for us writers, y'all have no idea. xxx


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